


Not Too Early or Too Late

by unrequainted



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrequainted/pseuds/unrequainted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q turns to Bond who, in the waning hours of morning, had succumbed to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Too Early or Too Late

 

Just as Q arches off the bed into Bond’s touch, his mobile goes off, and because Q is Q, he’s set M’s number to an annoying ring tone. This serves as both a reminder and alert; there really is no “off time” for the head of Q-branch. He sighs against Bond’s neck and flops back to the bed. Q drags his phone from the nightstand, and doing so, silences the awful ringing. The night is beginning to run into morning.

Q listens to the newly arisen problem at MI6. Nothing alarming, but implementing the solution will take time. Bond lets all his weight go, blanketing Q and grunting in displeasure. This isn’t the first time his sexual appetite was interrupted for the greater good of Queen and Country. During the brief, Bond nips annoyed kiss marks into Q’s neck. He’s not impressed.

So, after M ends the call, Q warmly tugs at Bond, in a way asking him to give up on the sex. It’s not happening tonight as much as they want. Q leans over and shares a long apologetic kiss, an attempt to placate his lover. He’s about to start on the sudden, but not surprising, bout of work.

Shrugging out of the warm comforts of bed, Q heads to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and retrieving a mug. His cupboard is filled with “Q” scrabble mugs, but each one is special in its own right. Yes, he can tell them apart. The presentation is just as important as the tea itself.  Q decides on his favorite, taking a moment to select the right Earl Grey for the mid-night assignment. The Ceylon is rounded with bright hints of citrus, preferably strong.

The flat is a tad cold, just on the cusp of winter–heating isn’t needed when they go to _bed_. Q shuffles back as the cold seeps into his bare feet curling in sensitivity. His cotton pyjamas don’t do much to retain heat. Nicking the laptop off his desk, Q holds the steaming mug close, grateful for the ambient warmth. Winter really isn’t going to be pleasant.

By the time Q’s gathered all his work necessities, Bond is sitting against the backboard and twiddling with his glasses. They’re thick with years of computer work and heavy reading.

“I don’t suppose you need these.”

A smile tugs on his lips as Q climbs back into bed. As he settles in, Bond nudges him and slides his glasses in place. And of course, leans in to kiss him, tuck an arm around his waist, smooth a curl of unruly brown hair. Q thinks this was all a ploy to delay him and kiss him silly. Though, it _did_ ultimately work. Forcing Q to readjust his own glasses; his lips are slick with kisses and bitten to a red hue. He’s a bit more than flushed, but there isn’t time for that.

“Ready to do damage on your laptop, sitting in your pajamas, before your first cup of Earl Grey?”

And, it’s not to say that when Q does start his work, Bond isn’t actively distracting him. The agent’s arm is slung over his shoulder, and his other hand is languidly rubbing circles into Q’s hip. It’s a comforting feeling, like a massage. Only, knowing 007, the motion is the beginning to more pleasurable intentions.

“James,” huffs Q, eager to get his job over with–in the shortest time span possible.

 “Mmm, I’m following along,” answers Bond as he noses the soft spot behind Q’s ear. Q can tell Bond is smiling into to his skin as he presses sly kisses here and there.

Bond isn’t following anything. He’d be surprised if 007 knew more than how to shoot and seduce. These two activities being the prominent job requirements for a double-oh. He turns to Bond, sparing one last kiss before straightening up and rapidly typing into the morning. There seems to be a foreseeable amount of tea in the near future.

After drowning in a torrent of code, Q stretches his arms in an attempt to bring back circulation.

It’s a quarter to four, and his script is set to run for a while. Q turns to Bond who, in the waning hours of morning, had succumbed to sleep. By the looks of it, the agent is knocked out, slow and evened breath barely audible over the light tapping of keys.

He’s almost at the point where the caffeine is wearing down and the promises of sleep are drawing his eyes closed. Q nuzzles into the crook of Bond’s neck, breathing in the scent of smooth aftershave and something that reminds him of tea (though honestly, this may be his own scent rubbing off). Pulling away, Bond still hasn’t stirred. Q unwinds the arm over his shoulders; Bond isn’t anything short of heavy. Still, Q thinks it’s nice to have a double-oh slumped on him as he shoulders the weight. Maybe it’ll keep him awake, just until Queen and Country are safe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my darling betas [chibisama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibisama) and Yaki.


End file.
